


Behind Closed Doors

by nqzirr



Category: OC - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nqzirr/pseuds/nqzirr
Summary: hhhh





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> present  
> 3:40PM  
> 11/19/2018

I knew what I’d done as soon as the door closed. I sighed heavily and slumped to the group. In my three years as a judge, I had never sentenced a man to death. I knew he deserved his fate, but it was a terrible feeling to tell a man he was to be legally slaughtered. You might be wondering what the man in question did to deserve it. His name is Samuel Monroe, or better known by his alias, the Springfield Ripper. His reign of terror began in 2012 when i was just entering law school. Monroe had 30+ victims which he would stalk for weeks at a time before he struck. The stalking included hang-up calls, threatening notes, and petty break-ins. He killed by breaking into the victim’s homes one last time. When the unlucky target(s) came home, he was waiting for them. He would tie them to chairs and slowly cut off their limbs. He always started by removing the tongues of his victims so the neighbors couldn’t hear them screaming. When he was satisfied with his work, he would find a sledge hammer from somewhere in the house and bash the victims skulls in until they were dead or very close to death. Monroe was caught just after his 37th attack. Something was different about this attack though: he made a mistake. One of the three victims survived the brutal attack and was found by a concerned neighbor, who immediately called 911. The police arrived with ambulances soon after the call was made. They found Monroe in the front bushes. He was arrested on the spot and taken to the police station for questioning. He confessed to the murders almost as soon as they started questioning. This all happened a week ago, and the sole survivor passed away yesterday evening while in a medically induced coma. She had extensive brain injuries and had to have emergency neurosurgery upon arrival to St. Mary’s Hospital. By the way, I bet you’re wondering how I know these intimate details about how Monroe kills. The answer is very simple: I was his accomplice.


	2. ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> past  
> 11:30AM  
> 12/13/2012

December 13th, 2012. The day I received a phone call that changed my life, not necessarily for the better. I don’t remember what i was doing before my roommate, Sam Monroe, called me. His voice was quiet and panicky. “Victoria, I need your help. I fucked up bad,” he breathed into the phone. “What happened?” I asked, but he had already hung up. A few seconds later, my phone chimed. It was Sam. He had texted me an address: 8321 West River Road. I told him i was on my way and got into my car. The address he sent me was about 5 minutes away from our apartment building. I pulled up to a small house on a corner. I parked next to Sam’s junky red pickup truck and walked up to the front door. I was about to ring the doorbell when Sam ripped open the door and yanked me inside. I took in my surroundings and flinched. There was a trail of blood leading down the basement steps and Sam was covered in the stuff. “Jesus Christ, Sam. What did you do?” I exclaimed. “I need you to help me get rid of her,” he mumbled, leading me down the basement stairs. The scene I walked into was horrific. Blood was splattered all over the room, including on the ceiling. In the center of room sat a woman’s torso and head with her skull bashed in. On the ground around her laid her limbs, which were cut into small pieces. “Who was she?” I gasped in total shock. “Maya Ramirez,” Sam kept his gaze fixated on the woman. “I’m not going to help you get rid of her body, but I will help you get rid of any DNA you may have left. Do you have gloves?” I sighed, also keeping my eyes on the body. Sam nodded and handed me a pair of latex gloves, then proceeded to put a pair on for himself. I instructed him to start wiping down any surface he’d touched. I dashed up the stairs and grabbed rags to wipe down surfaces with. I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It was 11:43. I had around an hour before I had to pick my daughter, Annie, up from daycare. I put my hair up into a ponytail and rushed down the stairs. Half an hour later, all surfaces had been wiped twice to ensure no DNA was left behind. “If you do this again, use gloves. Okay?” I stated, stripping off my gloves. “I will. I promise,” Sam mumbled, also removing his own gloves. “I hate to ask this, but do you want her to be found?” I led Sam upstairs and out the front door. I noticed an ancient-looking payphone nearby. He nodded. “That’s why I did it. I want to be feared,” he declared, a smug smirk flashing across his lips. I gave him a thumbs up and walked over to the payphone. I dug 50c out of my wallet and stuck the coins in the slot. I picked up the receiver and dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?” The operator asked. I quickly lowered my voice to a whisper. “There’s been a murder at 8321 West River Road. Maya Ramirez is dead,” I quickly hung up. “We have to go. Meet me at home, I should be there in half an hour or so,” I told Sam. He nodded and got into his pick-up, driving off towards our apartment complex. I started my car and began the familiar drive to Little Lambs Daycare Center. The daycare center was only a few blocks away, and by the time I arrived, I could hear police sirens blaring from a few neighborhoods over. I drove home as fast as I dared, praying I wouldn’t get pulled over. I glanced in the rear view mirror to check on Annie. She was quietly singing to herself while she played with a Barbie doll she left in the back seat a few days prior. I pulled into the apartment building’s parking garage and unloaded Annie from the back. “Mommy, I saw a police car today!” she shouted excitedly, grabbing onto my hand. “That’s cool, honey! I didn’t see it, but I heard them while I was waiting for you,” I said, desperately trying to hide my fear. We took the elevator up to the 4th floor and went into our apartment: number 4c. Sam was sitting on the living room couch with the TV on. He was watching some kind of sitcom when the emergency broadcast jingle from our local TV station played. He jumped and turned the volume up a few levels. “Good afternoon, my name is Mike Smith, live on scene at the scene where 34 year old Maya Ramirez was murdered earlier today. Ms. Ramirez was found in the basement of her home dismembered and with her skull bashed in. We’ll have more on this later.” The channel switched back to the sitcom Sam was watching before I came home. We exchanged fearful glances, wondering if anyone had seen us entering or exiting. “I need a drink,” Sam sighed and shut the TV off. “Me too,” I pinched the bridge of my nose ‘What have we gotten ourselves into?’


End file.
